Bittersweet Insanity
by Merciless Angels Never Cry
Summary: Arise Eliza, arise my love and let us be together forever. Let us not allow Death to do us part, my love... A look at how Faust became a necromancer and his descent into madness... Rated M for graphic content. Strong gore and dark themes. Please R&R.


**Author's Note: **Another Faust story. I wonder why not many people write fanfics on our favourite necromancer…? It's a shame really…. I hope you enjoy this, though I must warn you; it is not for the light-hearted! You've been warned! Enjoy and please review! xxx

Blood…

That's all he could see…

He stood there by the door, staring in horror at what lay in front of him. He dropped the bouquet of roses, his mouth dry and moving wordlessly as he tried to comprehend what had happened. Both his stomach and heart both threatened to come out from his throat and spill out onto the floor.

She lay there…

In a pool of her own blood…

His beautiful goddess…broken and bloodied.

He rushed over to her, dropped to his knees, staring at her face. Crystalline tears running down his cheeks. She was shot in the head, her skin broken and rigid from where the bullet entered her skull. There was brain matter stuck in her hair, her golden locks stained red. 'Eliza…?' Faust whispered his voice barely audible. 'Eliza? Sweetheart…? Can you hear me, m-my l-love…?' he whimpered.

Once the tip of his fingers touched her face, Eliza gasped. Her body started to jerk and twitch as she coughed up blood. Red rivulets staining her angelic face some more. 'Eliza?' Faust let out a shrill cry, taking off his jacket and placing it under her head. When he pulled his hand away, her blood stained it. However he didn't care, she was still alive. There was still a chance for her to survive.

He wasted no time in calling am ambulance. He held her hand as she continued to convulse on the trip to the hospital. Blood splattered her oxygen mask as she gagged and coughed.

The doors of the ambulance whipped open, the paramedics carted her to A&E, Faust by her side. They were at the hospital where his father worked and just as she was about to enter the theatre, Faust VII stopped his son. Johann started to scream and tried to his father's strong grip. 'Let me go!' he yelled. 'Eliza needs me!'

'You know the rules,' his father tried to reason with him. 'No relatives are allowed in there.'

Faust dropped to the floor, watching through blurry eyes as his father entered the doors, dressed head to toe in surgical gear. Two nurses had to grab him from under his arms and haul him up. They walked him to a nearby chair in the waiting room. Once they settled him down, they tried to reassure him that everything was going to be alright. But it didn't matter. Faust hadn't even noticed that they were even moving their mouths. He stared into nothing, his stomach churned and clenched as he felt bile starting to form in his throat.

His love, his life, was dying. If something were to happen to her….

_No,_ he thought. _She's not going to die. Father wouldn't let her die. Never._

'Stirb nicht vor mir…' he whispered, clenching his eyes shut. He began to pray, no, beg. Begging to God to help her through this. _I never asked you for anything, _he pleaded. _I've always tried to do the right thing. So has my beloved Eliza. Please…please don't punish us. We've done nothing wrong. We don't deserve this….she doesn't deserve this. Just let her live. That's all I ask._

Hours passed in the waiting room. To Faust, it was like waiting for his own death sentence.

The door opened and he saw his father covered in blood. For a second his heart started to fill with hope, but it quickly dropped when he saw the morbid expression on his face. 'Son,' he choked. 'We tried-'

'No!' Faust barked, his head shaking and new tears started to form. 'Don't say it! DON'T SAY IT!'

'She's gone son…'

Faust let out a piercing howl as his father hugged him. He shoved him away, more of his wife's blood staining his white shirt. He demanded to see her.

His father nodded solemnly and lead him to the morgue. He left the room to let him grieve. Faust braced himself as he pulled back the sheet. He couldn't breathe. She just lay there…dead. His heart stopped beating. His lips trembled as he kissed her cold, lifeless ones. His tears rolled off of her deathly pale cheeks. All the colour had drained from her. Her lips looked blue and chapped as he kissed her again and again. He picked her up and embraced her. His whole frame shuddered.

Not only did she die that day…but so too did Johann Faust VIII…

**Author's Note: **Well…? What did you think of it…? Please review xxxx


End file.
